3 Sarah Jane Adventures - Shapeshifter Chronicles: Cold Sun
by lhigginns67
Summary: A retired Sarah Jane, and top notch door-to-door salesman Stuart, are living the good life. Or are they?
1. I

'It's heading that way!'

Sarah Jane caught the tail end of her's, Stuart's, and Rani's little bundle of trouble. Except it wasn't little, just huge and fast, conveniently picking Park Vale Comprehensive as it's hiding place.

Sprinting ahead of the others, Stuart pursued the giggling creature down yet another corridor. At least it was considerate enough to wait until after school hours, Stuart thought.

He stopped, fully aware time was not on his side.

Damn, it had vanished.

Sarah Jane and Rani caught up with him.

Three doors along the corridor greeted them.

'We'll try a door each,' said Sarah Jane.

'No,' said Stuart.

The other two looked at him.

'Split up. Go down to the next corridor.'

'Stuart, we don't have time for this,' said Sarah Jane.

Stuart looked at her, clearly unhappy.

BANG!

It had sounded from the first room.

The three looked at each other.

'Search the other two rooms,' he ordered, entering the first one.

Sarah Jane and Rani hurried to the two other doors.

Stuart entered what appeared to be a Maths classroom. He pulled out his gun and scanned around, spotting a body slumped against a filing cabinet.

Dead, thought Stuart, spying the wound in its neck.

He turned from the body, his eyes darting around the room.

Where was it? That piece of-

ZAP!

Stuart jarred, thudding to the floor.

The body lowered the taser it was holding, dusting itself off.

Stuart was staring blankly at it, trapped in his frozen body.

'Any luck?' Sarah Jane asked, as she and Rani exited their rooms.

Rani shook her head. 'I don't suppose Stuart found something?'

Sarah Jane looked down at the first door. This was like the factory two years ago, all over again, she thought. She looked at Rani.

'We'll take a look. But we have to be careful.'

Rani nodded in acknowledgment.

They looked around the room.

'I'll check out the storeroom,' Rani said, heading to the back.

Sarah Jane approached the filing cabinet, stopping.

'Stuart?'

She crouched down to the man lying before it. His eyes were open, unblinking, but he was breathing. Sarah Jane's eyes narrowed.

What was-

ZAP!

She jarred, then fell. Her vacant eyes stared at the creature before them, which then left.


	2. II: Knock Knock

Ah, nine o'clock. Time for the first customer of the morning, Mrs Lansbury.

Stuart approached the ever familiar Shaftesbury Lane - with a gleaming grin on his face? Quite possibly.

Modelling his favourite lilac shirt and yellow tie, he strode up Mrs Lansbury's pathway, holding his clipboard, and rapped her red door.

It opened to a fair haired fifty something woman wearing a dressing gown, who clutched a mug of tea.

'Morning, Stu.'

'Good morning, Mrs Lansbury,' he said, possibly too cheerily for first thing in the morning. 'Life insurance. Might that interest you?'

Mrs Lansbury chuckled, taking a sip.

'I'm not reliant on a Zimmer frame just yet, you know.'

Stuart skimmed down his clipboard.

'Well, if ever the wind changes, I'll be right here with some superb offers.'

Mrs Lansbury smiled.

'See you in thirty years, then, Stu.'

'Thank you, Mrs Lansbury.'

'Thanks,' she said, and shut the door.

Five o'clock. Yet another lot of happy, valued customers under his belt. Time to retire for the day. A baked potato was calling his name. Martin could make him one - that's what husbands were for.

The front door swung open, to the sound of hoovering.

'What a glorious day,' Stuart said, removing his tie and approaching his husband.

Martin switched off the hoover and kissed Stuart, who then strode into the kitchen.

'I fancy a baked spud, Mart,' he said, browsing the fridge. 'Get the oven on, will you?'

Martin entered the kitchen, heading for the appliance.

'Any luck with Mrs Lansbury, this time?'

'Sadly not. Always tomorrow, of course.'

He said it with a sly grin.

Ah, ten o'clock. Bedtime. Stuart emerged from the bathroom in his favourite strawberry-print pyjamas, sauntering over to the double bed, and climbed in beside Martin, who was reading the paper.

'What about that woman, down in number thirteen?' he asked. 'You tried her yet?'

Stuart shrugged.

'No, though, it's a terribly big house for just one person. I'll go there tomorrow, nine o'clock sharp.'

Martin grunted, replacing his paper.

'Porridge in the morning?'

'Sure.'

Stuart yawned, stretching.

'Night, Mart.'

'Night.'

Martin switched off his light.

Stuart looked over to the chest of drawers facing him - or rather the top drawer, brandishing a smug little grin. It was his favourite drawer, as it happened.


	3. III: Past My Sell-By-Date? I Think Not

First order of the day - cornflakes. Lovely and mushy. That's if Sarah Jane's hip didn't decided to play up. Reaching for her walking stick, she headed for her bedroom door, step by gradual step. Her silver hair flopped against her shoulders. The carer would be here soon. That of which was the advice of Derek next door. Past her sell-by-date? She scoffed at such a thought. Maybe her mobility - driving included - was limited, but she could still run this household. In fairness, her carer, Zalia, was good company - the sister she'd never had, perhaps?

Sarah Jane eventually reached the ground floor, courtesy of the stairlift. Sixty-two felt much too young for retirement. Eight o'clock. Zalia would be here shortly.

Ding dong.

Right on time.

The door opened to a slender, middle-aged, auburn haired woman in a nursing uniform.

'Morning, Miss Smith.'

'Come on in, Zalia,' Sarah Jane smiled, allowing the other woman to enter.

Zalia headed for the kitchen, while Sarah Jane trekked to the living room.

'Just the usual for breakfast, Miss Smith?'

'Of course,' Sarah Jane called, manoeuvring to and settling down on the sofa.

Ten minutes later, Zalia emerged with a tray, which held a generous bowl of corn flakes, glass of apple juice, and dried apricot. She placed it on the table before Sarah Jane, who was watching the news.

'Aliens?', she scoffed. 'These people will do anything to have their fifteen minutes.'

She looked at her tray. Ah, cornflakes - just how she liked them.

Zalia set down some cutlery and headed for the kitchen.

'How does a little outing today sound, Miss Smith?'

'Ideal,' Sarah Jane replied, tucking in. 'A trip to the shops will do.'

Zalia re-entered.

'Of course.'

The supermarket brimmed with customers. Sarah Jane looked around as Zalia pushed her in the wheelchair.

'Ten items, Miss Smith,' she said, studying their list.

Half an hour at most. That's all Sarah Jane wanted to tolerate. Find and purchase the ten items, then leave.

Thirty-five minutes later, they were at last exiting the supermarket, with two full bags hanging on wheelchair's back.

'It's not far to my car, is it?' Sarah Jane asked, scanning the car park.

Zalia looked at her.

'Do you mean my car?'

Sarah Jane's eyes darted.

'But I've always...I've always had a car.'

What was...that wasn't right.

'Better get you home, I think,' Zalia said, as they approached the car.

Nine o'clock. Lying in bed, Sarah

Jane scanned her bedroom. She had lived in this house for years, but only once in a while, would she dwell on the loneliness. Or would she? A strange aura tinged the air. Or did it?


	4. IV: Insurance? Who Needs It?

Nine o'clock, once again. Destination: number thirteen. Stuart couldn't wait to see the smile on the woman's face.

He studied his reflection in the bedroom mirror. Orange shirt and...red tie? Oh, yes.

Martin had already left for work, to commit to a twelve hour shift. Sometimes Stuart was glad the care sector wasn't his cup of tea.

He grabbed his keys, and locked the front door behind him.

Bright and sunny. Ah, marvellous. He chose his attire well, then. No birdsong, or a peep from the neighbours. Perfect. He clutched his clipboard as he marched towards his destination, number 13. And what a home it was - a mansion, you could say.

Approaching the door, he knocked out a little rhythm. The door opened.

'Stuart,' said Sarah Jane. 'Not your normal route, surely?'

Stuart smiled.

'Nope. Thought I'd take the scenic route.'

Sarah Jane sighed.

'If it's home insurance, I'm not interested.'

Stuart frowned.

'Not even at half-price?'

Sarah Jane gave a hard stare.

'No.'

Stuart glanced at the clipboard. He smiled.

'Thank you for your time. Miss Smith.'

Her door shut as he turned away.

Five o'clock.

Boy, he was bloody knackered. Now on Shaftesbury Lane, it was just one more street until home.

Oh. Mrs Lansbury's house was near. He slowed down as her house grew closer - even throwing in a little yawn.

'You look ready to start counting sheep, Stu.'

Stuart's head cocked at the voice. Mrs Lansbury leaned in her doorway, modelling yellow silk pyjamas.

'Exhausted wouldn't be in it,' he said, eliciting another yawn. 'And no one to come home to, I'm afraid. Mart's working the long shift.'

Mrs Lansbury stood up straight.

'Oh, now we can't let you starve. Come in and get a bite to eat!'

'Ah no, you really-'

'How about a baked potato?'

Stuart visibly brightened.

'Can't say no to a bit of free grub,' he said, heading towards her house.

What a lovely house Mrs Lansbury had. Lovely, just like her.

'Just make yourself comfortable in the living room,' she said, heading into the kitchen.

'Thank you.'

Mrs Lansbury opened a cupboard, producing some plates. She reached for the cutlery drawer and-

Gagging, choking...yes, that was it, thought Stuart, as the phone cord dug tighter into the soft flesh of her neck. She'd have something to remember him by, anyway.

Ah, a lovely shade of blue to match those lovely yellow pyjamas.

Mrs Lansbury's hands scrambled for the cord, but he pulled tighter.

'Insurance, eh? Who needs it?'

Silence. The woman's hands dropped.

Stuart released the cord, letting the phone thud on the floor.

His work here was done.


	5. V: Trigger-Happy Arsehole?

Saturday. Same old Saturday. Sarah Jane spied the time. Seven o'clock. One hour until she'd be graced with Zalia's presence. Sarah Jane didn't feel much like moving. For her hip had been playing up too much lately.

Perhaps she could check up on K9 later. And Luke. Wait...who was Luke? Probably a neighbour, like Zalia would say. And silly Sarah Jane, she didn't like dogs. She manoeuvred herself out of bed, for the beginning of the day ahead.

Cornflakes eaten and newspaper read, Zalia removed Sarah Jane's tray, and exited into the kitchen.

Ding dong.

'I'll get that,' Zalia called.

She opened the-

'SURPRISE!'

Zalia stumbled, eyeing the huge shotgun Stuart was aiming at her.

Sarah Jane appeared, catching the cold grin stretched across his face.

'Special offer,' he chirped. 'Family and friends discount.'

BANG!

Zalia jolted back.

BANG!

The woman hit the floor, staring blankly.

Sarah Jane looked at him.

'Stuart...you're not a killer.'

'And Wormwood wasn't your carer.'

Sarah Jane frowned.

Stuart chuckled, aiming the shotgun at her head.

'Really? Me a trigger-happy arsehole?'

'Stu-'

BANG!

Stuart's eyes shot open. As did Sarah Jane's. They climbed to their feet, looking at the familiar setting of the attic.

'The dynamic duo.'

That sounded like-

'Ruby?'

She smiled, standing up from the red sofa.

'I'd say that was like a cold sun. An idyllic world with all the warmth sucked out.'

They paled. That smile. It couldn't be.

Ruby wasn't Ruby anymore. In her place stood a scaly brown figure, smiling.

'Run.'

 **To be continued...**


End file.
